Cast No Shadow, Peter Sharp [books to get back into reading txt] 📗

landing craft of the other half of 4 Commando, in effect the north arm of the pincer, just manoeuvring to get onto their beaches. There came the sound of heavy gunfire but much further to the north.

As the landing craft hit the beaches the commandos scrambled out and took cover in the dunes as best they could. There was a little more gunfire now, but nothing close to what they had expected. Kelly dashed from cover to cover until he had linked up with the other members of his 10 Commando section. They would attach themselves to the second troop throughout the operation and would act as an extra section.

The first objective was an unprotected machine gun station about four hundred yards inland. The lead troop were given the task of eliminating it and set about the mission with relish. Splitting themselves into two groups, they used fire and movement to approach the enemy. One group moved whilst the other fired, and then they reversed the roles.

From his position Kelly could see one section going out to the flank. He knew that this would cause the German gunner some difficulty because he would be unsure where best to concentrate his fire. Two-inch mortars were being fired from just behind Kelly’s position as further distraction. Then all hell broke loose from the Commandos in front of the position. They poured down all the fire power they could muster on the unfortunate Germans, whilst at the same time Kelly could see the flank section rise as a man and charge the position, screaming and firing on the move.

There was sporadic fire for a moment or two followed by silence in the immediate area as the assault troop regrouped. The objective had been taken.

The three troops were busy manoeuvring into position for the advance to contact at the main objective, whilst Kelly and Captain Pierre Delacroix, Kelly’s Belgian Section Commander in 10 Commando, searched the bodies of the dead Germans for anything that might be of use in terms of information. There were maps and letters but nothing of intelligence value so, when they had completed the search, they attached themselves to the reserve troop and set out for the batteries at Varengeville.

There had been continuous small arms fire from the village of Pourville-Sur-Mer as the Canadians and Camerons fought to secure it. Now there was a cacophony of firing, heavy shelling and explosions from further north in Dieppe. Kelly looked at his watch, just before 5.20 am. The main force was making a thrust in the centre and it was now broad daylight.

The short march to Varengeville was undertaken with little to impede it. There were a couple of minor skirmishes, but these were dealt with efficiently and quickly. Spotting the objective, they came in sight of the guns and were met by heavy small arms fire. The troops went to ground exactly as they had been trained and returned fire as soon as they were able. The response was measured and careful. They could not afford to waste ammunition, but at the same time, they needed to register their presence.

No attempt was made to initiate the attack until the officer in charge of their half of the commando heard firing from the north, signalling the arrival of the other half of the commando. Immediately the pincer started to close. They were using fire and movement as previously, but on a significantly larger scale, so that they drew ever closer to the guns until each one was picked off in turn.

Kelly found himself in an assault group on the flank of one of the guns. Heavy fire had been laid onto the enemy in the gun pit in an attempt to distract them, and, if possible, force them to keep their heads down. Just then the section commander in charge of the assault group, a corporal in his mid-twenties, sprang to his feet, his face a grim mask of determination.

His men, Kelly among them, all honed to the very highest combat level, were already on their feet before his barked order of ‘Stand up’ had fully left his lips. Glancing quickly around him the corporal sprang forward as he screamed the order to charge. In a line, the men sprinted forward, screaming, yelling obscenities and battle cries as they bore down on the enemy who were frantically bringing their guns and small arms around to bear on the attackers.

The gap was probably about sixty yards, but it seemed ten times that distance as they bore down on the position. Things seemed to be happening in slow motion. The movement of the Germans was slow as they spun around to face them. The shots were slow to come. Kelly seemed to be running through treacle instead of sprinting, and even the rounds sounded slow as they whined past his head. A soldier to Kelly’s left jerked and sank slowly to the ground still trying to run forward as he did so. Then they were on the enemy. It was like coming out of a tunnel, normal sound levels were resumed, normal speeds returned. Kelly saw the look of abject terror on the face of a young German soldier as he sent half a dozen rounds from his Sten machine gun into him.

The assault unit wheeled around to the right and went to ground ready to defend their position. As they did so, another group could be seen moving towards them to their front. The first to react was the corporal who sprang to his feet.

“HOLD FIRE! HOLD FIRE!” he shouted above the din before anyone else could react. His head swivelled from side to side at his assault group, his arms outstretched, palms downward in a visible signal for calmness. “It’s our lads from the other group!” he called jubilantly.

The pincers had closed.

The commando was quickly organised into all-round defence, whilst the demolition experts placed charges on all the big guns to ensure that they were rendered completely beyond repair. There was a